Breakaway (A Gail McCarthy Mystery) (16 page)

"I think so, too. I have a client who thinks it may be happening to her mare. Someone is sneaking into her barn at night. She doesn't want the police involved, but I was just wondering what you thought."

Jeri shrugged one shoulder. "I think she should call us. A thing like that can become compulsive, like rape. Pretty soon the person has to do it. He won't be stopped. Such a person can be dangerous."

I climbed back into my truck feeling mildly pleased that Jeri Ward and I were now on reasonably friendly terms. A phone call confirmed that I had no more appointments or emergencies, so I headed back to the office. It was now four o'clock.

The last client of the day turned out to be a man with a young stallion who couldn't figure out the mechanics of breeding a mare. Jim had told the guy to bring the two horses in, and we would assist.

The stallion was a three-year-old Arabian, still a little uncertain about the sexual act. The mare, also an Arabian, was older, and the owner assured us she had been bred before. "She's quiet enough," he said. "I tie her in the barn and lead him up to her, but he just can't seem to figure it out. She's in heat now, and I really want to get her bred before she goes out."

"Hmmm," Jim said.

I watched him as he teased the mare, leading the stallion up to her and letting him sniff her, watched as the young stud nipped playfully at the crest of the mare's neck. We all looked hopefully at the stallion's genitalia.

Sure enough-he was responding appropriately.

Jim gave orders. "You hold this mare over here, where she's down in a hole and easier for him to get on," he said to the owner. ''I'll handle the stud, and Gail, you help him get it in."

Great. Now this was one of my odder cases.

Jim led the stallion up to the waiting mare, who did, indeed, stand quietly. With an eager nicker, the stallion clambered up, his front legs hanging over the mare's hips, as he struggled to find the spot.

I put him in. Not too difficult, really. We all stepped back as he pushed, finally getting the idea. Mission accomplished.

Watching as the stallion thrust into the mare, an image as powerfully erotic as it was innocent as a flower blooming, I felt mildly confused. The two men watched with me; outwardly we all looked detached, but I wondered what sort of thoughts were chasing around their brains.

Flowers are the sexual organs of plants, after all, was what I was thinking. This young bay stallion, just now completing the act of passion, was in some ways the equivalent of a full-blown tea rose. And yet there was the forcefulness of his thrusting; the male intensity of his desire.

I thought of Nicole and her mare and the man who came to her barn at night. Thought of the man secretively thrusting into the mare, as the stallion was doing. The image was deeply disturbing in ways I couldn't fathom; I shook my head abruptly to chase it away. When I did I shivered, and Jim looked at me.

I met his eyes and shrugged. "A goose walked over my grave," I said, and unaccountably, I shivered again.

THIRTEEN

Friday night I went out with Kris. I'd been to visit Nico on Wednesday, drank another glass of wine, and narrowed my choice down to one of three paintings. Nico reiterated that I should come back as often as I liked. Thursday and Friday had both passed relatively uneventfully, so when Kris called me at work late Friday afternoon, I had no ready excuse.

"All right," I said finally, yielding to her urging.

"And wear something sexy," she added.

"Right." I hung up the phone, and went back out to look at a horse with a pulled groin muscle. Two hours later, as I showered and readied myself to go, her often-repeated advice came back to me. Wear something sexy.

Well, there was that dress. The blue velvet dress that I'd never worn. I'd bought it in a fit of something, right after I broke up with Lonny. A fit of what, exactly? Not pique or rebelliousness, but something like that. I was tired of looking like a conservative little country girl in my jeans and silk blouses. I wanted to appear sophisticated for once.

The upshot of all this was that I'd never brought myself to wear the new dress, either out on a date or anywhere else. It looked too overtly come-hitherish, and I never felt comfortable in it. Maybe tonight, I thought.

Taking the dress off its hanger, I pulled it on, or rather, I wriggled into it. The dress had a low-cut neckline and spaghetti straps; it fitted as tightly through the torso, waist, and hips as stretch velvet could manage, and flowed from there in a sweep to midcalf. A deep midnight blue, which looked black in the shadows and had a sheen of sapphire in the light, the dress bared most of my back and a lot of my chest, and had a glamorous, forties-type ambience-for all the world like something Myrna Loy might have worn in The Thin Man.

I stared at myself in the mirror. This dress was not me. It didn't reflect either my taste or my style, and yet, it looked good on me. What the heck. Tonight I'd be a vamp. There was no harm in it. I'd made Kris promise that it would be just us two, and if she happened to find a man she liked, she would arrange to meet him later and take me home.

I wasn't interested in picking up strange men. Let alone the fact that it wasn't my inclination, I also thought it was dangerous. Slipping on the high-heeled black shoes I'd bought because the dress demanded them, I studied my reflection. Then I opened my mother's jewelry box and picked out a piece of hers I almost never wore-a two-carat topaz pendant on a braided gold chain. It hung perfectly in the deep neckline of the dress.

Pulling my hair up in two combs, and adding a little extra eyeliner and lip gloss, I decided that I was almost unrecognizable as Gail McCarthy, the horse vet. What I looked like exactly, I wasn't sure.

I could hear Kris's horn beeping as she drove her Mazda Miata up the driveway; Kris was always impatient. Putting my black silk jacket over my shoulders, I told Roey to be a good dog and stepped out the door.

Then we were off, with Kris running through the gears in her usual hasty fashion. I often thought that this snappy little black sports car was the perfect reflection of her current state of mind.

We'd agreed on Clouds as a destination for drinks and dinner; Kris cut a good five minutes off our time getting there. As we entered, I noticed that Caroline was behind the bar again tonight. The next thing I noticed was Clay Bishop-sitting at a small table with a woman.

The sight gave me a funny feeling. I'd thought myself indifferent to Clay; I'd also thought him devoted to me. Obviously I was wrong on both counts. It disturbed me.

The woman he was with was tall and blond, wearing a goodly amount of makeup and several earrings in her ears. She was about my age, slim and fit-looking, with a pretty face, and she had an indefinable air that I could only describe as Southern Californian. A little too obviously dyed-blond, a little too showy. She was talking vivaciously to Clay while he listened, looking absorbed.

I poked Kris in the ribs with my elbow and jerked my chin infinitesimally in Clay's direction. Kris raised an eyebrow and walked purposefully toward the bar. I followed. Clay turned his head and saw us. His eyes widened and for a brief moment he looked truly stunned, whether at my appearance or at seeing me when he was out on a date I couldn't tell.

He got somewhat clumsily to his feet. "Hi, Gail. Hi, Kris."

We both greeted him. The blond woman looked at us curiously. "This is Sue," he said. No further explanation seemed to be forthcoming.

I smiled, said, "Nice to meet you," and walked on by, finding a seat on a stool at the other end of the bar. Kris trailed after me.

I shrugged. I had told Kris what Clay had said at the end of our last date. "He doesn't owe me anything," I said firmly.

"Well, I don't think much of his taste," she sniffed.

We both surreptitiously studied the woman, who was talking again. I had to admit I agreed with Kris. The blonde had a superficial prettiness that seemed applied all over, like a gloss. The patterned, somewhat shiny pants and top she was wearing were a little too loud for me.

Of the other hand, I smiled to myself, Kris and I probably looked like two ladies of the evening. Kris's backless black halter dress hit her at mid-thigh and was more than a match for my cocktail outfit. We were definitely a pair to draw to.

Caroline interrupted this reverie by asking what we'd like to drink. Kris chose a martini, I went with my usual vodka tonic. Caroline made the drinks with a ready smile.

"Uh-huh. Those trails go everywhere through the hills. There's one that takes you up the bank behind my place and right over to Lushmeadows. He came that way. I thought it was romantic."

"Shit, Kris." I took a long swallow of my drink. "Maybe he's a rapist in a past life. Might be nice to get to know him a little better before you jump in the sack."

I looked. Clay and his tall blonde were indeed exiting the bar. Clay gave us a casual wave and a smile. The blonde had a good figure. I was being surprised by how much it bothered me.

"So ask that other guy out," Kris said, seeming to read my mind.

"Blue? I went and saw him and made my interest plain. If he doesn't call me, he's just not interested. I don't want to hound the poor guy."

"Real well," I said firmly, knowing she would have seen Clay and the woman. "This is my friend Kris, this is Caroline."

She made the drinks while we watched; I was struck again by her graceful competence and interesting, lively face. "How are things going with you?" I asked her as she pushed our drinks across the bar.

"Oh, not so good." She smiled at me. "My least favorite customer was just in."

"Oh?" I looked a question at her.

"This guy. He's stalking me. I can't stand him. He comes in here almost every day I work, sits at the bar, and just stares at me. He leaves me soppy notes, he asks me out constantly, he's a royal pain in the ass."

"A lot like you're saying," Kris said. "He pursued the hell out of me until I went out with him, and after a couple of dates, he just sort of faded away. The pursuit is what he likes, I think."